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writers_loft2009-09-10 04:50 pm
[a Trail of Rose and Thorns] Part 11
Rating: PG
Genre: Fantasy
Length: approx 2500 words.
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Their carriage wound its way through the patchwork of fields, following the cart road. It was an uncomfortable, cramped journey, with sixteen men and Cara in the back. The steady-footed shires at the front ploughed their way onwards through sharp ruts and over flat stones, so that the ride was never smooth and everyone’s backsides were purple with bruising.
They stopped at midday in a little lumber town, nestled into the very beginnings of a pine forest that stretched north as far as the Icemarsh. While the horses were fed, watered and tended to, and the sailors haggled what they could from the labourers, Cara jogged beside the fence, forcing the blood back into her feet.
“Oak told me you were coming,” said a boy’s voice from behind her.
She glanced around, but saw nothing. Breath – or wind – brushed her bare neck and she grimaced.
“Who are you?” she whispered, but she heard nothing more besides the noise of the men. Backing away from the fence, she started to breathe again. Perhaps she hadn’t heard a voice at all.
After an hour’s rest they hauled themselves into the back of the carriage, Cara and Finlay sitting opposite one another at the very end. Imlad pulled out a battered pack of cards and started to deal them out on everyone’s knees. Finlay leaned forward, his palms out for a hand. Cara couldn’t help but scour the fields that slipped past. Had Oak told someone Cara was coming; was Oak following her?
At late afternoon, their dirt track joined with another that was busy with carriages, carts, horses and people on foot. The vast stream was heading north, chatting excitedly. Arguments broke out between older men while children skipped underfoot holding ripped ensigns. The cart that closed behind Farron’s was so near that the muzzle of the cow pulling it was pushing Cara’s leg. She patted its soft nose as she watched the crowd.
Evening drew in, bringing with it the drifting lights of fireflies. Some carts continued along the path stubbornly, but the people on foot were beginning to set up little camps in the fields. The driver called a halt to the two shires and the carriage came to a shuddering stop.
“Out you get, everyone,” Imlad called from the front. The men jumped down, some of them groaning as their knees stretched. He pushed himself out and saw Cara. “Where are you sleeping?”
She looked at where the sailors were unravelling blankets and small cooking utensils. It had seemed easy sleeping back to back, nose to feet with them on the Athelo, when she’d been a rigging boy. Now they all avoided her gaze, as if she wasn’t there.
“I’ll go on top of the carriage,” she said, and scrambled onto the slack leather roof, which was shaped like her old hammock.
“Mind the knots,” Farron said.
“Ah, she’ll be fine up there. The ties are good and tight,” the driver said, waving a hand vaguely as he pulled the horses from their harness.
“Here you are, then,” Imlad passed her a handful of things for her dinner and drew closer to the little oil heater that the driver had produced. Finlay sprung up onto the leather with her and they ate companionably. Imlad returned with a warmed, fruity loaf that fit in the palm of her hand and a few hunks of cold meat. At this height, they could see the groups of travellers dotted about in the fields, spreading further back than she’d realised.
“So many people,” she said, “and we don’t even know if he’s real.”
“He must be. Why else would things grow so well in Thasius? If he can make crops grow in winter, he could bring back Pelarmene. Everyone could have their homes again.”
She looked down at the crumbs in her lap. “Why did you come? I don’t think it was just because I did, right?”
Finlay stared out over the fields, the dancing fireflies lighting up his profile. “My mother sent me out to Farron’s ship. She knew I wanted to get away from Pelarmene, and I do, I want to see the world and explore and do everything we said. But I think she sent me more because of the smog.”
“The black mist?”
“Yeah. You lived underground, so you didn’t see what it did. But I saw it every day. One tiny gap in the mask was enough. One big breath could do it in seconds; a gap in a mask could do it in years. You’d be old too fast, you’d get sick-”
“Your mother?” she whispered. He nodded and sniffed.
“Even if I don’t stay, if this Prince can make Pelarmene how it was again,” he gestured to the lush fields and the clear, starlit sky, “then maybe she can get better.”
Cara felt her cheeks grow hot. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you had family.”
“Just me and her. I don’t remember anyone else.”
“I’m only going for me. Do you think that’s selfish?” She glanced at him; he was already looking at her, a sad smile on his face.
“No. You’ve only got yourself to worry about. Maybe that’s a good thing.”
Finlay lay back on the leather and closed his eyes. She curled herself tight, facing away from him. It wasn’t long before he turned away from her too and they fell asleep, their backs warming each other like they had in the hammocks.
They set off again in the crisp morning air, Cara and Finlay walking alongside the carriage. She bit into a warmed bread roll and looked behind her at the procession of travellers that had started following the road. The sea of faces was rough, haggard. Some of them looked mutinously ahead, cracking their knuckles and grimacing; others were singing the old farming songs from the Pelarmene before. The people in Amantra had sung them in the earlier years, and Cara found herself humming along.
They walked all morning, until the sun reached its peak and Farron leaned over his seat and called to them both, “Into the carriage, quickly!”
Cara and Finlay scurried in, her foot leaving the ground just as the carriage heaved itself off the dirt road and onto a slick, stone path. The clop, clop of the hooves were louder than ever as they picked up speed on the easy surface. Behind them, the carriage pulled by the cow had just sprung up.
“What is this road?” Cara said.
“It’s the trade road to Thasius,” replied Imlad.
“If we’re going so fast now, why didn’t we travel on this road yesterday?”
Imlad chuckled and held his pipe in his teeth while he dealt out another pack of cards to the men. “We won’t be going fast for long.”
Cara frowned at him. Finlay tapped her on the shoulder and gestured for her to lean out of the carriage and look down to the front, which she did. Just ahead were the rest of the travellers, crawling along the road at an achingly slow pace. They had joined the throng of people who had left Thorus the conventional way. She ducked back into the shade. “It’ll take years to get there!”
“Ah, we’re not far. We gained half a day by going roundabout,” Imlad said.
Cara rolled her eyes and hopped out onto the warm road, its heat spreading up through her shoes and into her feet. “Well, I’m not sitting in there all day,” she said, and headed alongside the carriage. She heard someone else jump down and, thinking it must be Finlay, said, “You got bored of cards already, did you?”
Brenlan glared at her.
“What?” Cara snorted, quickstepping out of his path.
“If there’s one thing I hate, it’s a brat who gets their own way,” he hissed, his bloodshot eyes narrowed.
“I…” She gaped at him as he strode past, pushing his way through a small gap between two carts. Above her sat Farron and the driver. “What’s his problem?”
Farron glanced at her and then out over the crowd, squinting in the sun to where Brenlan was cleaving his way through the parade.
It took two more days to arrive at the southern bank of the Lys river. They crawled their way, snail-like, along the road, surrounded by travellers, sailors, tanned Pelarmenes who had come from Saxwold and further away, and the usual traders and merchants who were adrift in the current. Cara fidgeted in her seat and couldn’t decide between walking in the hot sun and sitting in the cool shade. She switched between the two so often that eventually, at the peak of the third day, Imlad roared at her, “You either sit still or stay outside, or you’re going back to Thorus, dammit!”
It was while they shared out a meagre lunch, Imlad pouring out a steaming pot of tea that had been warmed on the driver’s heater as carefully as he could manage, when Farron let out a yell. They all scrambled to look round the end, or peek out of the gaps in the walls. Cara and Finlay jumped up onto the leather roof. Ahead of them was the Lys River, winding through the fields like a glittering ribbon, and past its little bridge was the town of Thasius. It was built in the shadow of the Icemarsh high above and nestled in a bay of pine trees that stretched far away to the north and west into the slopes. Far to the east, the Lys broke into the delta, and became a network of myriad capillaries. Little huts had sprung up where the earth was still dry, along with permanent pulleys with fishing nets suspended over the water.
As they drew closer, Cara saw what Althar had meant; past the buildings and little square were vast fields of swaying corn, not yet ready for harvest but already the height of a man. The flowers on the roadside danced in the breeze, their petals thick, lush with colour and scent. Watching the procession were two cows, their udders full, their flanks muscular and strong, the little horns on their heads reaching where Farron was sat. Even as Cara crouched, her mouth open with awe, an uncommonly large butterfly fluttered past her cheek, its downy wing sweeping her skin like a playful kiss.
“Look at the size of those fish!” Farron said, and pointed ahead into the crystal clear river where carp and trout frolicked like the children in Thorus’ bay.
“This is damned unnatural,” Imlad muttered from below, his eye pressed firmly to a break in the binding.
“I’ll have to leave you on this side of the bridge, Captain,” said the driver. “There ain’t a cart that can go over the bridge; it’s not built for vehicles.”
“Right,” Farron nodded, and slapped the side of the carriage briskly. “Everyone out!”
The sailors all obeyed, gaping at the cows that were lowing curiously at their audience. Cara and Finlay got down from the roof. Ahead of them and just behind, passengers were disembarking from their own carts, so that the road side was a mess of people.
“Thanks for the ride,” Farron said, counting out a handful of coppers and silvers. “I hope you get back through all right.”
“And I hope you find your Prince,” the driver said, tipping his hat. Farron was the last to jump down as the driver eased the horses to the right to turn the carriage south.
The eighteen of them walked quickly past the cows and through the maze of people, everyone holding onto another’s hands of belt strap so as not to get lost. The noise of the birds, the rattle of wheels and the murmur of people milling around was deafening. The only guide Cara had was Finlay’s outstretched hand, since she barely came up to anyone’s shoulders. She kept her head down and watched her feet, and jumped in surprise when she began walking uphill. She glanced round; they were crossing the bridge, all of them staring at the clear, swift running river. The fish swimming there were easy to see now, and their scales gleamed so brilliantly the sunlight twinkled off them like crystals.
“Look!” someone behind her gasped, and she looked compulsively. Up ahead, a flag was flying on top of a very large barn, the same emblem that had been on the Saxwoldian ship. Her heart pounded excitedly; it was the same reckless feeling she’d had as she’d slipped through the sewers of Amantra.
As one, the crowd pushed forward through the little streets of Thasius. Cara had no impression of it besides soft, sun-warmed walls and thick paving stones surrounded by escaping tendrils and blossoms. The plants were trampled flat. They passed the small fountain in the very centre of town, and the deserted shops. Smaller children scurried through them all, pushing apples into unwary hands.
They reached the entrance of the barn and edged into its cool shade, their company crushed into the furthest corner from the front, where several hay bales stood like a stage. The walls were completely covered in emblems and old flags, and any spare area was plastered with painted roses.
“Where is he? Can you see him?” shrieked a girl beside Cara. Her voice was lost in the commotion but Cara could hear her shrill squeak quite plainly.
The girl’s friend was on her tiptoes, peering over the sea of heads. “I don’t know! I hope he hurries! I can’t wait to see him again!” She ducked down and giggled with the first girl, who replied, “Oh, he’s so gorgeous!”
Cara raised her eyebrows and turned to Finlay. “Prince Lydoris is gorgeous.”
“What? Can you see him?”
“No, it looks like he’s been here before. Some girls were talking.”
“Oh, right,” Finlay sighed. But then there was a great surge as the crowd was pushed to either side of the barn, and a walkway appeared down to middle to the makeshift stage.
Cara pushed past Finlay to a little hay bale in the corner and stood on it. She could see clearly over the crowd into the aisle, down which strode a group of purposeful men. She said excitedly to Finlay, “He’s one of them, I think!”
Finlay hopped onto the bale beside her and looked, but already the men were far away. The crowd let out a great roar as one of them leapt onto the stage. He was tall, and powerfully built, wearing a tunic and breeches like any other farmer’s son. His face was tanned, with a wide mouth and brown eyes under tousled chestnut hair. The girls in the barn that had so eagerly waited for him all squealed – some of them threw kerchiefs at him.
“Wow,” Cara breathed, looking over every inch of him despite herself.
“Thank you, thank you,” said the man, with a lop-sided grin at the kerchiefs covering his boots. “For those of you who have just arrived, welcome!”
“Are you Lydoris?” shouted a gruff man from the centre who had been in the cart behind Farron’s.
The man on the stage smiled, caught off guard but effortlessly blasé. “The one and only!”
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thorarosebird
no subject
One thing, (I've not read the other parts, should probably do that) if Cara is the only female in the story, you can use she instead of her name in the same paragraph. Having a characters name repeateded can irritate a reader. However some like it. It's really dependant on what you want.
I may have missed it in previous parts, but how big was the carraige? Was there really 16 or 17 people in that one carraige? Or was there more of them?
Otherwise it was easy to read and didn't feel bogged down. =) Good job!
no subject
I will look at the repetition of her name - she is the major female character... and possibly the only one of note!
The carriage would have been for trading and cargo, and would have fitted about eight people on the two opposite benches inside. It would be a squash but I think they could have sat comfortably. If it's not believable enough I'll go back and add more detail about the size of it.
Thanks so much, I really appreciate you reading it. :D
no subject
And details about the carraige would be good, even if it was just to say it was a trade/cargo carraige. Sometimes it takes only two or three words to give the reader all they need to form the visual picture in their mind.
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The one thing that gave me a moment's pause is the cow you have pulling a cart. Cows (meaning female cattle) are sometimes used for pulling carts, so the detail isn't wrong. But I think what you probably meant by "cow" was ox (meaning an adult steer). They're used a lot more commonly as draft animals than cows.
Granted, it's kind of a nitpicky detail since most people use the word cow to refer to any type of cattle. But it struck my farm-girl senses as just a touch odd, so I thought I'd mention it. :)
no subject
Hmm. I did wonder about cow vs ox, and I justified it by thinking that, as primarily a farming country, Pelanion would be more inclined to harness up whatever was in the field. This cow might have been unlucky, perhaps? Hehe but I can see your point and I'll take a look at it. Thanks again. :)